


Washington is Watching

by CoralFlowerBad (CoralFlower)



Category: Hamilton - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Weird Power Dynamics, the son/dont call me son thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 07:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9982205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoralFlower/pseuds/CoralFlowerBad
Summary: ham/wash but realistic





	

"Son--"

"Don't call me son."

The words fly out of your mouth before you think about them, automatic, like flinching, like he's raised a hand against you or leaned in while shouting like you might remember someone doing-- the shiver that runs down your spine makes you grimace, you hate this-- and this time he notices something.

"Alexander."

You grit your teeth and bite out a 'yes, sir?' as you try not to anticipate anything.

"Son. Look at me."

You glare up at him, posture avoidant, and try not to let the heat you're feeling show on your face as you retort,

"I'm not your--"

"Hush."

You feel it on your face, the indignation.

"I'm _not_ \--"

He walks around his desk as he replies and you have no idea what he actually said because suddenly he's moving closer and there's a roaring in your ears. You watch his mouth move and cringe as the heat between your legs intensifies, and then your back hits a wall and he looks like he's about to touch you.

And then it all bubbles up in your chest, the decade-old abandonment, the bitterness, the overcompensation. All of the insecurity, all of the panic.

"Sir," you tell him as a sob tries to escape past your words, "Sir, I feel unsafe."

Apparently the sudden display of vulnerability works, because he freezes and stops advancing; it must have been something he wanted anyway, to see you with your barriers down. You don't like that.

You don't make eye contact but in your peripheral vision you see the way he's holding himself change, and then he's wordlessly handing you a handkerchief and you look up at him to check if things are okay and he looks angry.

"Are you angry with me, sir?"

You hate him when you think about it but you still do not want for him to ever be angry with you. He shakes his head tersely.

"I can leave, if--"

"No."

And suddenly you find that you very much want to leave.

"Alexander, I owe you an apology."

"Sir--"

"Quiet."

You glare balefully at him as he breathes in, looking away from you to gather his thoughts, and press on,

"I don't accept. And if you order me to, I'll do it, but I won't mean it and you'll always know that."

Your voice cracks on the third to last syllable, but you get your point across, because he looks at you, expression suddenly soft but very restrained and says,

"I apologise. Let me know if I cross a boundary again. If you want to be transferred somewhere else, ask. Understood?"

"Affirmative, sir," you bite out, still unwilling to let him off that easily.

"You are dismissed."


End file.
